Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vacation. Show all posts
12.25.2015
For Christmas Susan got to wake up and drink a French pressed cup of coffee without having to pay a premium price with a 20% tip. She also got to play with a bubbly three year old, laugh with Wild Bill, learn how to make cider sangria and cream cheese sausage balls (oh yeah!) and just enjoy a great, low key day messing around with her family while Elf played in the background.
Susan hopes all your Christmas dreams came true too!
12.24.2015
Day Five: Getting Out of New Orleans
More rain, oy.
Susan & her kids had a nice easy 12:11pm flight to Atlanta then a connection to North Carolina. From there they would visit family; first to Wild Bill's daughter's house for Christmas then on to the husband's eldest daughter's house.
Susan fretted about not being able to squish all her stuff back into her luggage, dropped her postcards into the gold mailbox in the lobby & took one last look around her fancy temporary home before climbing into a taxi for the $45 trip to the airport, 11 miles away. Susan liked the lady cab driver working on Christmas Eve with bronchitis who had taken care of her mother until she died two years ago & as a result became certified as a Home Health Aid but is still grieving & not able to resume that kind of work so she drives a cab, and gave her a $10 tip.
Susan knows more about her but how much do you want to hear?
Alright, she'll tell you.
The lady cab driver moved from Kentucky 15 months ago, has a laid off husband & three kids between ten and six and wants to move again because the climate is bad for her health but they're going to wait till they're back on their feet, and she still has to do her Christmas shopping.
There's more, but you get the gist.
Susan knew before she left the hotel that her connecting flight was delayed, but she wasn't concerned. Susan is always surprised by what doesn't bother her because it's unpredictable. The other day she was beside herself worrying about getting her boarding passes while away, which is a situation with many practical options. A delayed connecting flight would normally be the stuff of anxiety for Susan, but today it was like, eh.
At the airport Susan was selected for a random chemical screening and removed from the line so that both her hands could be rubbed with a pad secured to the end of a wand. Thirty seconds. After that she discovered that not only were both their flights delayed, but so was everything up to New York. The pilot for her Louisiana to Atlanta flight was on hand to answer questions in his southern drawl, beautiful pilot's outfit and commanding presence. He was very reassuring.
Surprise Panic: The flight to Atlanta was boarding but there was still an entire airplane's worth of people ahead of them when Susan's son opted to visit the restroom. After ten minutes Susan asked the daughter to text her brother, no response. Five minutes later Susan called him, then called again every minute thereafter as her heart raced imagining someone stealing her 225 pound boy. This was a primal fear based deep in her heart which made no sense as the mother of a grown recreational wrestler, but she didn't care. Ninety nine percent of her was positive that evil had befallen him, but she clung to that teeny one percent that he was just taking a long poop on the potty. When he finally came strolling out of the men's room Susan hugged him.
Fast forward through 2 quick flights which left Susan five hours behind schedule. When she arrived at the rental car counter the representative pointed out that her reservation was for the 20th, not the 24th. Susan explained that's when she began her trip, but not when she intended to pick up the car. He said that the price on the reservation expired 24 hours after the date of pick-up and the current price is now 30% higher because the longer one waits to rent a car the more the price goes up.
Enter Susan at 9pm on Christmas Eve looking for a car.
When the smoke cleared, Susan paid the stupidity tax and drove off into the fragrant North Carolina night toward her niece's house.
Stupidity Tax = mistake related expenses.
Susan & her kids had a nice easy 12:11pm flight to Atlanta then a connection to North Carolina. From there they would visit family; first to Wild Bill's daughter's house for Christmas then on to the husband's eldest daughter's house.
Susan fretted about not being able to squish all her stuff back into her luggage, dropped her postcards into the gold mailbox in the lobby & took one last look around her fancy temporary home before climbing into a taxi for the $45 trip to the airport, 11 miles away. Susan liked the lady cab driver working on Christmas Eve with bronchitis who had taken care of her mother until she died two years ago & as a result became certified as a Home Health Aid but is still grieving & not able to resume that kind of work so she drives a cab, and gave her a $10 tip.
Susan knows more about her but how much do you want to hear?
Alright, she'll tell you.
The lady cab driver moved from Kentucky 15 months ago, has a laid off husband & three kids between ten and six and wants to move again because the climate is bad for her health but they're going to wait till they're back on their feet, and she still has to do her Christmas shopping.
There's more, but you get the gist.
Susan knew before she left the hotel that her connecting flight was delayed, but she wasn't concerned. Susan is always surprised by what doesn't bother her because it's unpredictable. The other day she was beside herself worrying about getting her boarding passes while away, which is a situation with many practical options. A delayed connecting flight would normally be the stuff of anxiety for Susan, but today it was like, eh.
At the airport Susan was selected for a random chemical screening and removed from the line so that both her hands could be rubbed with a pad secured to the end of a wand. Thirty seconds. After that she discovered that not only were both their flights delayed, but so was everything up to New York. The pilot for her Louisiana to Atlanta flight was on hand to answer questions in his southern drawl, beautiful pilot's outfit and commanding presence. He was very reassuring.
Surprise Panic: The flight to Atlanta was boarding but there was still an entire airplane's worth of people ahead of them when Susan's son opted to visit the restroom. After ten minutes Susan asked the daughter to text her brother, no response. Five minutes later Susan called him, then called again every minute thereafter as her heart raced imagining someone stealing her 225 pound boy. This was a primal fear based deep in her heart which made no sense as the mother of a grown recreational wrestler, but she didn't care. Ninety nine percent of her was positive that evil had befallen him, but she clung to that teeny one percent that he was just taking a long poop on the potty. When he finally came strolling out of the men's room Susan hugged him.
Fast forward through 2 quick flights which left Susan five hours behind schedule. When she arrived at the rental car counter the representative pointed out that her reservation was for the 20th, not the 24th. Susan explained that's when she began her trip, but not when she intended to pick up the car. He said that the price on the reservation expired 24 hours after the date of pick-up and the current price is now 30% higher because the longer one waits to rent a car the more the price goes up.
Enter Susan at 9pm on Christmas Eve looking for a car.
When the smoke cleared, Susan paid the stupidity tax and drove off into the fragrant North Carolina night toward her niece's house.
Stupidity Tax = mistake related expenses.
12.23.2015
Day Four: New Orleans
Day four began much better than day three when everyone got out the door to eat their breakfast at a reasonable time, plus the sun was out and it was warm & breezy. Susan left New York needing a winter jacket, now she was walking around in a shirt & pants, not even a sweater or plastic rain bag.
The spot Susan chose for breakfast was the closest thing they had to a fave place because it's the second time they were there. The first time was for beignets and the waitress said 'that's all you want?' This time Susan didn't care, it was festive, all the windows opened to the street and they had a breakfast menu. Breakfast is Susan's happiest meal, it's full of promise and will also be the least amount of money that she'll spend all day. From her seat Susan could hear the bells ringing from St. Louis Cathedral and the train near the French Market. She grew up a half mile from train tracks and always loves to hear a train.
There was a photo exhibition a few blocks away that Susan wanted to see. You can click on the link and read about The Katrina Decade, Images of An Altered City but Susan can also show you a few pictures right now:
Immediately after the exhibit Susan cut her son loose while she & her daughter went to a used bookstore where Susan did her best to discourage the purchase of heavy lumpy books she would have to lug home in her carry on.
Susan's most magical time of the day came later when both of her teenagers were down for their daily nap, one in which she would normally have joined them, except on this last day she opted to go out for some solitary time and a cocktail. She had her eye set on the Carousel Lounge in the lobby but it was always filled & noisy, so she hit the street and ended up in a little quiet place where she sat at the bar & wrote out postcards while she drank her beloved French 75 and ate crab cakes.
Here's a Christmas parade passing by:
Eventually her kids broke the spell when they tracked her down & requested dinner. Their last meal would be opposite the French Market where a giant pot of crawfish boiled away for all to smell as they walked by. Susan and her kids had never pulled apart crawfish before & asked the server for a quick tutorial. That sh*t was lip burnin' spicy! Susan picked through all the carcasses and sucked them dry, chewing on the shells if she had to. She shared her grilled oysters with garlic aioli, although she really didn't want to.
On the way back to their fancy temporary home they stopped one final time for beignets and Cafe au Lait although there was no room in their stomachs for either.
The End.
The spot Susan chose for breakfast was the closest thing they had to a fave place because it's the second time they were there. The first time was for beignets and the waitress said 'that's all you want?' This time Susan didn't care, it was festive, all the windows opened to the street and they had a breakfast menu. Breakfast is Susan's happiest meal, it's full of promise and will also be the least amount of money that she'll spend all day. From her seat Susan could hear the bells ringing from St. Louis Cathedral and the train near the French Market. She grew up a half mile from train tracks and always loves to hear a train.
There was a photo exhibition a few blocks away that Susan wanted to see. You can click on the link and read about The Katrina Decade, Images of An Altered City but Susan can also show you a few pictures right now:
Immediately after the exhibit Susan cut her son loose while she & her daughter went to a used bookstore where Susan did her best to discourage the purchase of heavy lumpy books she would have to lug home in her carry on.
Susan's most magical time of the day came later when both of her teenagers were down for their daily nap, one in which she would normally have joined them, except on this last day she opted to go out for some solitary time and a cocktail. She had her eye set on the Carousel Lounge in the lobby but it was always filled & noisy, so she hit the street and ended up in a little quiet place where she sat at the bar & wrote out postcards while she drank her beloved French 75 and ate crab cakes.
Here's a Christmas parade passing by:
On the way back to their fancy temporary home they stopped one final time for beignets and Cafe au Lait although there was no room in their stomachs for either.
The End.
12.22.2015
Day Three: New Orleans
Susan hasn't eaten a vegetable since she left home.
Instead she has eaten beignets, kumquats, jambalaya, oysters, crawfish etouffee, Andouille sausage gumbo, fried alligator, blackened redfish and drank chicory Cafe au Lait. Susan would be drinking French 75 exclusively if her children weren't around to cramp her style.
Please allow Susan to elaborate on the French 75, she was introduced to it on their first morning in town, it's made with champagne, either gin or brandy (Susan prefers gin), lemon, & simple syrup with a zested lemon peel garnish. Tre fabu! She's going to be serving these to herself on New Year's Eve.
Day Three had no schedule, the only plan was to get up when they felt like it, go to the French market, eat, and poke around. Unfortunately, when one wakes up late one also eats breakfast late, and as a result Susan had a teeny little meltdown. She's sure hardly anyone even noticed. Eventually the triumvirate of family members barely speaking to each other found an all day breakfast joint and everything wrong in the world was righted. At least till Susan got hungry again.
The day was rainy, but it was also a pleasant temperature, Susan re-stocked her supply of $2.99 plastic rain gear, although she would wear hers only if absolutely necessary. They stopped for a snack (that's Susan's code word for beignets) and sat in a breezy open restaurant a block down from the hotel. Phones immediately come out at mealtimes which Susan has been allowing because she understands that 24 hour togetherness breeds contempt and her children need a break from her.
Purchasing every meal for three people is starting to take its toll on our poor heroine. Periodically Susan's son picks up the tip, which she appreciates, but it's not a discount on which she can rely. The other aspect is that she hasn't really fallen in love with any one dish or restaurant, except Cafe Beignet, and that's only because it's a minute's walk, and well, beignets. Generally speaking, she loves gumbo, jambalaya and spicy sausage, but nothing yet has haunted her dreams except for the kumquats and French 75.
Susan has also been depleting her finances by dropping some of it into the hats of local independent musical entrepreneurs. She never gets tired of hearing music in the Quarter but her impatient children do not share this view and are constantly pushing her along.
Here's a picture she took on Day Three:
The End.
Instead she has eaten beignets, kumquats, jambalaya, oysters, crawfish etouffee, Andouille sausage gumbo, fried alligator, blackened redfish and drank chicory Cafe au Lait. Susan would be drinking French 75 exclusively if her children weren't around to cramp her style.
Please allow Susan to elaborate on the French 75, she was introduced to it on their first morning in town, it's made with champagne, either gin or brandy (Susan prefers gin), lemon, & simple syrup with a zested lemon peel garnish. Tre fabu! She's going to be serving these to herself on New Year's Eve.
Day Three had no schedule, the only plan was to get up when they felt like it, go to the French market, eat, and poke around. Unfortunately, when one wakes up late one also eats breakfast late, and as a result Susan had a teeny little meltdown. She's sure hardly anyone even noticed. Eventually the triumvirate of family members barely speaking to each other found an all day breakfast joint and everything wrong in the world was righted. At least till Susan got hungry again.
The day was rainy, but it was also a pleasant temperature, Susan re-stocked her supply of $2.99 plastic rain gear, although she would wear hers only if absolutely necessary. They stopped for a snack (that's Susan's code word for beignets) and sat in a breezy open restaurant a block down from the hotel. Phones immediately come out at mealtimes which Susan has been allowing because she understands that 24 hour togetherness breeds contempt and her children need a break from her.
Purchasing every meal for three people is starting to take its toll on our poor heroine. Periodically Susan's son picks up the tip, which she appreciates, but it's not a discount on which she can rely. The other aspect is that she hasn't really fallen in love with any one dish or restaurant, except Cafe Beignet, and that's only because it's a minute's walk, and well, beignets. Generally speaking, she loves gumbo, jambalaya and spicy sausage, but nothing yet has haunted her dreams except for the kumquats and French 75.
Susan has also been depleting her finances by dropping some of it into the hats of local independent musical entrepreneurs. She never gets tired of hearing music in the Quarter but her impatient children do not share this view and are constantly pushing her along.
Here's a picture she took on Day Three:
12.21.2015
Day Two: New Orleans
The homeless don't just sleep on the street, they snore.
Susan and her children had a morning date at Reverend Zombie's House of Voodoo to meet up for a walking tour of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. However, they opted to leave their hotel late then chose a very leisurely paced establishment in which to order their breakfast dooming them to reschedule till the afternoon.
Magic 8 ball: By the afternoon it would be pouring.
They put their morning to good use inside a vintage store which had the added benefit of assisting Susan's daughter to overcome her terrible mood, one which was really starting to bug Susan. It was also an opportunity to scope out new breakfast spots, specifically ones which would not cost $60 after tip and without liquor.
At noon it was drizzling, by the time they got to Reverend Zombie's it was raining.
Susan saw a line of tourists wearing disposable slickers and inquired where she might get some for herself. They pointed two doors down and within minutes she & her children were outfitted in glorified plastic bags at $2.99 each.
The rain was unrelenting, coming down harder as the tour progressed. But underneath Susan's plastic bag she was comfortable and dry. Tour guide Jill told everyone about the town's history, religious influences, burial practices over the ages and specific residents of the oldest City of the Dead.
Eventually, everything outside the protection of Susan's garbage bag got soaked, her shoes squeaked as she walked along, but she didn't care. It was fun to be in the rain, even her kids didn't complain. After the tour concluded she stopped for cafe au lait and beignets then a long nap.
The end.
12.20.2015
Day One: New Orleans
Her pre-getting-on-an-airplane-anxiety hit critical mass the day she had to pack, complete a few errands & get to her destination on time. The actual flying through the air was uneventful. She shared inflight coping strategies with her nervous armrest infiltrating seatmate who rewarded Susan with her brand new Food Network magazine.
During the ride to the hotel Susan saw palm trees everywhere! She never considered that she may encounter palm trees and it was a nice surprise. She also passed exotic cemeteries filled with above ground crypts, Susan's a sucker for architecture in any form & got woozy with anticipation of getting an up close crack at them. As for architecture, her French Quarter hotel is a real looker all tarted up for Christmas, even the beautiful wood paneling cleverly distracted her from panicking in the claustrophobically sized elevator.
- A noon seizure
- Gas lights everywhere
- A preponderance of people encouraging Susan and her children to drink alcohol
- Helicopters
- Tarot card & palm readers set up in the street
- Music!
- Raspy voiced black men
- Folks walking around with portable cocktails
- Fancily attired ladies and gentleman, different than New York fancy
By 8pm the neighborhood was insane with drunks, homeless, normal people, little kids, loud music and police sirens moving everybody along. Neither Susan nor her children objected to retiring early.
The end.
The end.
8.23.2015
Earlier this summer Susan spent a long weekend at the beach.
How wonderful! you say.
Everyone loves the beach! you say.
Susan loves the beach too, but she hates the sun.
HATES.
The sun can burn out of the sky for all she cares.
Susan's boss at Acme Heaven Sent generously took eighteen of her coworkers to Fire Island. As soon as they hit the ferry Susan's work pals all started shedding their outer layers, turning their faces to the sun and making sounds of profound satisfaction. Susan covered herself up entirely, pulled her long sleeves down over her fingers and accepted the loaner of a ball cap even though it made her look like a dude.
Once there Susan unpacked the essentials needed for a weekend away with grown-ups; alcohol, Tums, Advil, bandages, sunscreen & incense. They would all be used. After a full evening of drinking, laughing and eating the group all collapsed into whatever predetermined situation they would be sleeping; girls with girls, boys with boys, a few of them snoring into the wee hours.
The next morning breakfast was hosted in the courtyard, Susan stepped into the sun and felt as if she would burst into flame. Her work pals were very obliging with giving up their shady seats, it appears that very few people visit Fire Island in order to sit in the shade.
Sidebar: Susan foolishly drank up her daily quota of alcohol in Mimosas.
When everyone started heading to the beach Susan panicked at the thought of being trapped in a sunny horror until hipped by two of her fair-skinned work sisters that beach umbrellas were available. In fact, Susan had but to point and grunt, the umbrella would be delivered & positioned for her.
A beach umbrella was all that was needed to restore Susan's mental health & make her world happy.
The day wore on in a most congenial manner, the work pals all enjoying each other's company, but there was also a darkness brewing...
Any break in Susan's regular diet often results in digestive upset, and little by little a gassy wickedness was taking form in Susan's delicate tummy. Instead of dispersing, it was building up making Susan expand like a balloon.
Susan was carrying a gas baby.
She tried to abort her gas baby with a handful of Tums. The gas baby just laughed and kicked.
Many suggestions were given but none proved the least bit useful in diffusing the gas baby. Sipping hot water alleviated some of the discomfort allowing Susan to keep from retiring early, which would be her usual remedy. So, Susan stayed up late talking sh*t, playing games, commiserating over a nearly decapitated Big Toe, sipping hot water & joining a search party to locate the drunkest member of her group.
In the morning the toe was still attached, the missing member was back & the gas baby was gone.
Susan is tired right now, so this will suffice as The End.
How wonderful! you say.
Everyone loves the beach! you say.
Susan loves the beach too, but she hates the sun.
HATES.
The sun can burn out of the sky for all she cares.
Susan's boss at Acme Heaven Sent generously took eighteen of her coworkers to Fire Island. As soon as they hit the ferry Susan's work pals all started shedding their outer layers, turning their faces to the sun and making sounds of profound satisfaction. Susan covered herself up entirely, pulled her long sleeves down over her fingers and accepted the loaner of a ball cap even though it made her look like a dude.
Once there Susan unpacked the essentials needed for a weekend away with grown-ups; alcohol, Tums, Advil, bandages, sunscreen & incense. They would all be used. After a full evening of drinking, laughing and eating the group all collapsed into whatever predetermined situation they would be sleeping; girls with girls, boys with boys, a few of them snoring into the wee hours.
The next morning breakfast was hosted in the courtyard, Susan stepped into the sun and felt as if she would burst into flame. Her work pals were very obliging with giving up their shady seats, it appears that very few people visit Fire Island in order to sit in the shade.
Sidebar: Susan foolishly drank up her daily quota of alcohol in Mimosas.
When everyone started heading to the beach Susan panicked at the thought of being trapped in a sunny horror until hipped by two of her fair-skinned work sisters that beach umbrellas were available. In fact, Susan had but to point and grunt, the umbrella would be delivered & positioned for her.
A beach umbrella was all that was needed to restore Susan's mental health & make her world happy.
The day wore on in a most congenial manner, the work pals all enjoying each other's company, but there was also a darkness brewing...
Any break in Susan's regular diet often results in digestive upset, and little by little a gassy wickedness was taking form in Susan's delicate tummy. Instead of dispersing, it was building up making Susan expand like a balloon.
Susan was carrying a gas baby.
She tried to abort her gas baby with a handful of Tums. The gas baby just laughed and kicked.
Many suggestions were given but none proved the least bit useful in diffusing the gas baby. Sipping hot water alleviated some of the discomfort allowing Susan to keep from retiring early, which would be her usual remedy. So, Susan stayed up late talking sh*t, playing games, commiserating over a nearly decapitated Big Toe, sipping hot water & joining a search party to locate the drunkest member of her group.
In the morning the toe was still attached, the missing member was back & the gas baby was gone.
Susan is tired right now, so this will suffice as The End.
9.02.2012
9.01.2012
8.31.2012
8.11.2012
Day Eight of Susan's vacation she woke up in her own bed and emerged like the goddess of her universe with a relaxed glow, and no back ache from someone else's mattress.
She made herself a pot of coffee and some Irish oatmeal, the kind you have to cook on the stove for a half hour. Eating out exclusively for a week had left her unable to poop, but that would be fixed shortly.
Lucy, the dog came home! She was temporarily sweet smelling and a pound or two lighter.
The washing machine was put into immediate service, windows were opened, deck furniture was hosed off and another Saturday was in full swing.
She made herself a pot of coffee and some Irish oatmeal, the kind you have to cook on the stove for a half hour. Eating out exclusively for a week had left her unable to poop, but that would be fixed shortly.
Lucy, the dog came home! She was temporarily sweet smelling and a pound or two lighter.
The washing machine was put into immediate service, windows were opened, deck furniture was hosed off and another Saturday was in full swing.
8.10.2012
Day Six of Susan's vacation:
- Susan failed her test of inner peace when she walked across a parking lot of fire at the flea market held in the old fashioned Wellfleet Drive-In
- Two weeks overdue, Susan did her own pedicure
Day Seven:
- Whale watching on a wonderfully breezy, bright gray day with dark clouds in the distance
- Spontaneously deciding to make the 10pm ferry home instead of leaving in the morning
8.08.2012
Day Four of Susan's vacation:
- Susan observed a person getting handcuffed on Main Street and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Perhaps Meg or Bee would like to guess which town.
- Susan had a close encounter with her childhood when she came across a collapsible drinking cup just like the one her grandmother used to keep in her purse. Her grandmother also used to keep hard candies impregnated with tobacco from unfiltered Pall Malls, but Susan didn't find any of those.
Day Five:
- FYI: Susan prefers to leave ON TIME when she has to use scheduled transportation to get places, particularly if she woke up early to do so.
- Susan has yet to tire of the expansive views afforded by ferries and light houses.
8.06.2012
8.05.2012
Day One of Susan's vacation:
- Susan got sunburned. Sitting in the shade on the ferry affords one no protection from the sun's reflection off the water
- Susan sat in traffic.
- Susan cleaned six months of spider webs and dust from the very compact house her family is renting on Cape Cod
- Susan panicked when the internet password was inaccessible
- Susan had a frozen cocktail with dinner
- Susan ordered a Guinness with her lobster and split her big toenail in half. It didn't hurt.
6.16.2012
Susan found a notebook she kept when she went to London with her little sister in the spring of 1986 and would like to share with you the contents.
Tavern Bar in the hotel: this is the only bloody place open and we'll be chased out soon enough. I can't believe that they actually chase you out of these places and then pull all the liquor off the bar - everything's locked up by 11pm or 1am at the absolute latest, and that's this place.
Description: All wood, mahogany stain, red floral carpeting, tables and chairs clustered throughout, stained glass lamps, low ceiling, beams. The bartenders are doing a good job with my Mudslides (Bailey's, Kalhua, vodka). Lots of loud travellers - we've got a bunch of Swedes in and they're making the most noise, they were singing out front when I went past for smokes.
Friday we lucked out because after hours Jacques and Allan took us to the place where Allan worked or we wouldn't have eaten at all. We met them the first night at the Gloucester Arms, over a block or two. We had been walking around taking pictures because it was such a nice night and we were searching for food. - we were so knocked out after that miserable flight and the unbelievably horrendous trek to this hotel, dragging all our luggage in the rain then then the snow. We were limping along with tons of stuff when the rain turns into snow, we don't know where we're going but, we're going. So, anyway thanks to Allan we got to eat at the Hamilton House (I think it's called). The chef was funny - a tall, nice looking fella with his blond hair in a pony tail underneath a big white chef's hat. Some red-haired fella was playing a guitar and singing from a book of words he had while assisted by Kevin; a moderately obnoxious thin English type with a button-all-the-way-up shirt and a crew cut. I had some pretty good chili and after Kat goes to tally up at the register I find out that we picked up everybody's drinks. That's terrific - just like the newspaper guy last night; we're down in Piccadilly going in what we thought was the right direction and I want to get a paper so I ask the fella what a good London paper is and he tells me The Times, 'it's the best and the dearest' which I take to mean they're all gone. I ask for the second best and there were none of whichever that was either so, I settle for The Mail, 'a reasonable paper', sorta like the Daily News but not as bad. They're all like the National Enquirer here just in varying degrees. Anyway, the point is - after I settle for this reasonable paper some fella comes up, asks for The Times and gets it! That sonofabitch newspaper guy wouldn't give the damned paper to me.
Trader Vicks, London Hilton; enjoying a lovely Trader Vick's Stinker - sloe gin, rum, grog (whatever that is) and a couple of limes. This place looks like a Polynesian village after a tidal wave. There's a decent amount of business suits and we're the trashiest looking couple here - but, they did let us in. The second round is coming up, we're having a Pina Colada at Trader Vicks.
Cheap Day Return; on our way to Salisbury to get a bus and see Stonehenge, we're waiting to get thrown out because we paid for second class and we're sitting in coach - the only difference seems to be there's more room and tables between the seats like in a diner.
From the train you get to see the countryside and the towns, it's quite pretty. These folks sure like brick.
It's very hazy, not like the fog you see Basil Rathbone walking in and out of, this just sort of sits off in the distance. When it's seen through the trees it's atmospheric and very nice but when yer trying to take pictures of Big Ben it's a real drag. The last few nights have been absolutely bitter and Kathryn dragged me out to shoot the Houses of Parliament/Big Ben last night and Tower Bridge and the Tower of London the night before. They're all on the water and the wind goes ripping through any area that's not secured; up sleeves and down necks. Scarves and gloves are only minimally effective, they're better than no scarves and no gloves but you still suffer. Kat keeps saying You're wearing a skirt again - aren't you cold? while she's standing there with her coat unbuttoned and no gloves.
Speaking of gloves: I left my red ones in the Gloucester Station.
Stonehenge was real boring; an hour and a half on the train (nice ride) then ten miles on the bus. The bus driver was a real good guy - he told us to behave ourselves and left us there for an hour. After paying one pound fifty for admission and walking around taking pictures, we had 46 minutes to stand around and complain about the cold. It was all roped off so you couldn't get too near the stones and some old guy in a glass booth made extra sure that we didn't. On the other side there were sheep - lots of them, everywhere we walked we had to watch out for the blueberries.
Stanhope Tavern; I found my red gloves. The Iranian at the Bureau de Change had them. Bearing in mind my native land I naturally assumed they were gone fer good. There's a great jukebox here - I'm singing Wild Thing to my sister, we have to keeping drinking till all my songs are played; ten for a pound.
DINKYS: Double Income No Kids Yet. This is one of Elizabeth's expressions, we met her at the Stanhope Tavern; she's thirty seven, interested in New York but loves Europe and tells us that the Britons were outraged that we involved them in the air raid to kill Qaddafi by flying through their air space. I've heard that the British are very cold and unfriendly but I must say that the worst anti-social behavior thus far has been simply to ignore. At least once a day we find someone who is very friendly and sweet. Having someone turn my leather gloves in was a big two points in my book. Elizabeth was sitting there all by herself (just like Jacques was) and we all started yapping - sounding different is really a conversation starter.
PS: I started talking to Elizabeth. I saw her coming and I cleared the stool of our coats so she'd have a place to sit while Sue was in the toilet (Written by Susan's little sister).
Last day: I've been thinking about Klaus; he's a journalist that we met in the lobby last night, the floors in the hotel are smooth and slippery so I dragged Kat along by her hands, she used her boots as skis and Klaus came up behind her and pushed. We were to have met him for a drink forty minutes ago but we never got out of the room. There was a note waiting for us this morning at breakfast, I naturally assumed we were going to get yelled at; we had just met him so what type of message could he possibly be leaving us? He wrote that he regretted not being able to talk to us, he included how long he waited and said that he'd be in America at the end of the month and would like to meet us. We also got an invite to France from Midi, our little waiter - he was so small and such a cookie, he immediately took to us...he wants to see us bronzed (from the sun as opposed to cast in bronze). He was so attentive and complimentary I'll have to put him on my list for correspondence.
The plane ride's been alright so far - no gut wrenching turbulence, we have in flight drinks, Irish music on the headset and we even left on schedule.
Tavern Bar in the hotel: this is the only bloody place open and we'll be chased out soon enough. I can't believe that they actually chase you out of these places and then pull all the liquor off the bar - everything's locked up by 11pm or 1am at the absolute latest, and that's this place.
Description: All wood, mahogany stain, red floral carpeting, tables and chairs clustered throughout, stained glass lamps, low ceiling, beams. The bartenders are doing a good job with my Mudslides (Bailey's, Kalhua, vodka). Lots of loud travellers - we've got a bunch of Swedes in and they're making the most noise, they were singing out front when I went past for smokes.
Friday we lucked out because after hours Jacques and Allan took us to the place where Allan worked or we wouldn't have eaten at all. We met them the first night at the Gloucester Arms, over a block or two. We had been walking around taking pictures because it was such a nice night and we were searching for food. - we were so knocked out after that miserable flight and the unbelievably horrendous trek to this hotel, dragging all our luggage in the rain then then the snow. We were limping along with tons of stuff when the rain turns into snow, we don't know where we're going but, we're going. So, anyway thanks to Allan we got to eat at the Hamilton House (I think it's called). The chef was funny - a tall, nice looking fella with his blond hair in a pony tail underneath a big white chef's hat. Some red-haired fella was playing a guitar and singing from a book of words he had while assisted by Kevin; a moderately obnoxious thin English type with a button-all-the-way-up shirt and a crew cut. I had some pretty good chili and after Kat goes to tally up at the register I find out that we picked up everybody's drinks. That's terrific - just like the newspaper guy last night; we're down in Piccadilly going in what we thought was the right direction and I want to get a paper so I ask the fella what a good London paper is and he tells me The Times, 'it's the best and the dearest' which I take to mean they're all gone. I ask for the second best and there were none of whichever that was either so, I settle for The Mail, 'a reasonable paper', sorta like the Daily News but not as bad. They're all like the National Enquirer here just in varying degrees. Anyway, the point is - after I settle for this reasonable paper some fella comes up, asks for The Times and gets it! That sonofabitch newspaper guy wouldn't give the damned paper to me.
Trader Vicks, London Hilton; enjoying a lovely Trader Vick's Stinker - sloe gin, rum, grog (whatever that is) and a couple of limes. This place looks like a Polynesian village after a tidal wave. There's a decent amount of business suits and we're the trashiest looking couple here - but, they did let us in. The second round is coming up, we're having a Pina Colada at Trader Vicks.
Cheap Day Return; on our way to Salisbury to get a bus and see Stonehenge, we're waiting to get thrown out because we paid for second class and we're sitting in coach - the only difference seems to be there's more room and tables between the seats like in a diner.
From the train you get to see the countryside and the towns, it's quite pretty. These folks sure like brick.
It's very hazy, not like the fog you see Basil Rathbone walking in and out of, this just sort of sits off in the distance. When it's seen through the trees it's atmospheric and very nice but when yer trying to take pictures of Big Ben it's a real drag. The last few nights have been absolutely bitter and Kathryn dragged me out to shoot the Houses of Parliament/Big Ben last night and Tower Bridge and the Tower of London the night before. They're all on the water and the wind goes ripping through any area that's not secured; up sleeves and down necks. Scarves and gloves are only minimally effective, they're better than no scarves and no gloves but you still suffer. Kat keeps saying You're wearing a skirt again - aren't you cold? while she's standing there with her coat unbuttoned and no gloves.
Speaking of gloves: I left my red ones in the Gloucester Station.
Stonehenge was real boring; an hour and a half on the train (nice ride) then ten miles on the bus. The bus driver was a real good guy - he told us to behave ourselves and left us there for an hour. After paying one pound fifty for admission and walking around taking pictures, we had 46 minutes to stand around and complain about the cold. It was all roped off so you couldn't get too near the stones and some old guy in a glass booth made extra sure that we didn't. On the other side there were sheep - lots of them, everywhere we walked we had to watch out for the blueberries.
Stanhope Tavern; I found my red gloves. The Iranian at the Bureau de Change had them. Bearing in mind my native land I naturally assumed they were gone fer good. There's a great jukebox here - I'm singing Wild Thing to my sister, we have to keeping drinking till all my songs are played; ten for a pound.
DINKYS: Double Income No Kids Yet. This is one of Elizabeth's expressions, we met her at the Stanhope Tavern; she's thirty seven, interested in New York but loves Europe and tells us that the Britons were outraged that we involved them in the air raid to kill Qaddafi by flying through their air space. I've heard that the British are very cold and unfriendly but I must say that the worst anti-social behavior thus far has been simply to ignore. At least once a day we find someone who is very friendly and sweet. Having someone turn my leather gloves in was a big two points in my book. Elizabeth was sitting there all by herself (just like Jacques was) and we all started yapping - sounding different is really a conversation starter.
PS: I started talking to Elizabeth. I saw her coming and I cleared the stool of our coats so she'd have a place to sit while Sue was in the toilet (Written by Susan's little sister).
Last day: I've been thinking about Klaus; he's a journalist that we met in the lobby last night, the floors in the hotel are smooth and slippery so I dragged Kat along by her hands, she used her boots as skis and Klaus came up behind her and pushed. We were to have met him for a drink forty minutes ago but we never got out of the room. There was a note waiting for us this morning at breakfast, I naturally assumed we were going to get yelled at; we had just met him so what type of message could he possibly be leaving us? He wrote that he regretted not being able to talk to us, he included how long he waited and said that he'd be in America at the end of the month and would like to meet us. We also got an invite to France from Midi, our little waiter - he was so small and such a cookie, he immediately took to us...he wants to see us bronzed (from the sun as opposed to cast in bronze). He was so attentive and complimentary I'll have to put him on my list for correspondence.
The plane ride's been alright so far - no gut wrenching turbulence, we have in flight drinks, Irish music on the headset and we even left on schedule.
7.24.2011
It's already been well documented how poorly Susan does in the heat, how she immediately and completely decompensates leaving only the extremely rotten parts of her personality in evidence. Heat and Susan are not friends, they can't even give a civil nod as they pass one another on the street. And, don't even mention that f*cking b*tch, humidity. Oh, how she hates humidity!
Susan walked on boiling hot pavement all week, first through Philadelphia then through Washington, D.C.
Susan walked till she couldn't walk any more, then somehow found the strength to keep going specifically, but not limited to, the Lincoln Memorial. It was the hottest place Susan had ever been at 10pm, like wading through an airless, steamy landscape, she could barely put one foot in front of the other. The husband referred to their nighttime trek as the death march.
At the end of the next day after walking a thousand miles across the surface of the sun Susan saw the Lincoln Memorial and said
Ooh, I'll be right back then sprinted away like a gazelle to ascend the steps and pay her respects again.
You don't get much better than Lincoln is what Susan thinks.
She had a wonderful, educational, visually spectacular trip and didn't even get blisters or a sunburn, although she got two mosquito bites and a cramped toe had to be massaged back into shape.
Susan walked on boiling hot pavement all week, first through Philadelphia then through Washington, D.C.
Susan walked till she couldn't walk any more, then somehow found the strength to keep going specifically, but not limited to, the Lincoln Memorial. It was the hottest place Susan had ever been at 10pm, like wading through an airless, steamy landscape, she could barely put one foot in front of the other. The husband referred to their nighttime trek as the death march.
At the end of the next day after walking a thousand miles across the surface of the sun Susan saw the Lincoln Memorial and said
Ooh, I'll be right back then sprinted away like a gazelle to ascend the steps and pay her respects again.
You don't get much better than Lincoln is what Susan thinks.
She had a wonderful, educational, visually spectacular trip and didn't even get blisters or a sunburn, although she got two mosquito bites and a cramped toe had to be massaged back into shape.
1.08.2010
The TWISTED Susan Family Annual Update
OMG, it felt like last year went by so fast when in reality it took an entire year to drag its sorry ass across the finish line.
Things started out with lots of excitement;
Susan was unemployed, her car got repossessed and the family lost their medical benefits. Wow!
But, laughter is the best medicine and, boy did they laugh. LOL!
Did they let any of this stop them from going on vacation? No they didn't. Twelve hours in the car got them a long weekend in North Carolina visiting the husband's daughters.
Susan knows that she's kind of making fun by insinuating that this may have been a less than glamorous trip.
She wants to say it loud & proud that she had a terrific time and hopes to be invited back again, although it would be nice to fly there.
Like all proud homeowners behind on their mortgage payments there were home improvement projects during the year. The husband hung some shelves and Susan bought new towels. They're looking forward to Phase II when they repaint a room.
Let's not forget about the kids, they had their own busy schedules of going to school followed by a summer of putting pizza rolls in the microwave and watching TV.
Susan served as juror number 6 during the home invasion trial of a drug dealer. She loved jury duty because it was like criminal justice theatre. Plus, she had nothing else to do and they paid her $40 a day.
There were blessings for the family too, and everyone knows just how much Susan adores the word blessings. She can't hear it enough.
Blessings.
In an economically desolate environment Susan got herself a new job. And eventually a new car payment. And payroll deducted medical benefits. And contributions to a 401(k). Then the IRS played a little trick on them, but it was all in good fun and everyone had a big laugh. LOL again!
There was a visit from Wild Bill which is always fun and frustrating and maybe a little chaotic. This trip he delivered his daughter safely back to her New York family.
To stay, hooray!
The year ended with a coupla things and blah, blah, blah.
The end.
Things started out with lots of excitement;
Susan was unemployed, her car got repossessed and the family lost their medical benefits. Wow!
But, laughter is the best medicine and, boy did they laugh. LOL!
Did they let any of this stop them from going on vacation? No they didn't. Twelve hours in the car got them a long weekend in North Carolina visiting the husband's daughters.
Susan knows that she's kind of making fun by insinuating that this may have been a less than glamorous trip.
She wants to say it loud & proud that she had a terrific time and hopes to be invited back again, although it would be nice to fly there.
Like all proud homeowners behind on their mortgage payments there were home improvement projects during the year. The husband hung some shelves and Susan bought new towels. They're looking forward to Phase II when they repaint a room.
Let's not forget about the kids, they had their own busy schedules of going to school followed by a summer of putting pizza rolls in the microwave and watching TV.
Susan served as juror number 6 during the home invasion trial of a drug dealer. She loved jury duty because it was like criminal justice theatre. Plus, she had nothing else to do and they paid her $40 a day.
There were blessings for the family too, and everyone knows just how much Susan adores the word blessings. She can't hear it enough.
Blessings.
In an economically desolate environment Susan got herself a new job. And eventually a new car payment. And payroll deducted medical benefits. And contributions to a 401(k). Then the IRS played a little trick on them, but it was all in good fun and everyone had a big laugh. LOL again!
There was a visit from Wild Bill which is always fun and frustrating and maybe a little chaotic. This trip he delivered his daughter safely back to her New York family.
To stay, hooray!
The year ended with a coupla things and blah, blah, blah.
The end.
6.21.2009
Ogred Weary
Susan was thinking about Edward Gorey today.
He first caught her attention here when she was a young teenager and she's crossed paths with his artistic talents often enough since then. Last summer, while on a Cape Cod vacation with Cousin Lisa's family, Susan's husband made a wrong turn & they found themselves directly in front of Edward Gorey's House.
It's Edward Gorey's house!
Susan was both excited and accurate.
A quick hop out of the car to peek in windows and rattle door knobs revealed that it was now a museum which had closed for the day. Susan took note of the location and made a plan to return.
Susan's family had rented a cottage on the beach with Cousin Lisa's family for a week. However, Susan prefers to characterize it as a beachfront sh*t hole. It was too small to comfortably fit both families, the appliances appeared to be original prototypes and there wasn't so much as a fan to assist in moving the stifling air about.
Who knew Massachusetts got so hot?
Every morning thousands of tiny spiders could be found sleeping out on the deck after a full night of spinning webs & embedding themselves into everything in sight.
Susan could write volumes about how much she hated the sh*t hole, but she won't because she really just wants to write about Edward Gorey's house.
Susan and Cousin Lisa returned to the house two days later without kids or husbands. It was during this trip that Susan discovered that she has more confidence in maps than talking boxes giving directions.
Edward Gorey's house was old and creaky with a fresh coat of white paint. Mr. Gorey had been a collector of much and a particular pack ratter of books which Susan learned through the photographs on the walls and by talking to the docent. He kept so many books while he lived there that certain rooms were un-navigable. Even with much of the contents removed, Susan found there was plenty to look at and all of it was entertaining.
Cousin Lisa however, was not down with the whole musty house experience & retreated to the outside pretty quickly leaving Susan to poke around undisturbed.
Susan liked Mr. Gorey's tongue in cheekiness. She was especially fond of a hand sewn doll displayed on a windowsill with its head underneath a large rock, and another visible only as a set of legs sticking out from beneath a rug.
Before Susan left she rewarded herself with a few of Mr. Gorey's books, her favorite of which 'The Curious Sofa' made her laugh out loud as she read it, in his house.
He first caught her attention here when she was a young teenager and she's crossed paths with his artistic talents often enough since then. Last summer, while on a Cape Cod vacation with Cousin Lisa's family, Susan's husband made a wrong turn & they found themselves directly in front of Edward Gorey's House.
It's Edward Gorey's house!
Susan was both excited and accurate.
A quick hop out of the car to peek in windows and rattle door knobs revealed that it was now a museum which had closed for the day. Susan took note of the location and made a plan to return.
Susan's family had rented a cottage on the beach with Cousin Lisa's family for a week. However, Susan prefers to characterize it as a beachfront sh*t hole. It was too small to comfortably fit both families, the appliances appeared to be original prototypes and there wasn't so much as a fan to assist in moving the stifling air about.
Who knew Massachusetts got so hot?
Every morning thousands of tiny spiders could be found sleeping out on the deck after a full night of spinning webs & embedding themselves into everything in sight.
Susan could write volumes about how much she hated the sh*t hole, but she won't because she really just wants to write about Edward Gorey's house.
Susan and Cousin Lisa returned to the house two days later without kids or husbands. It was during this trip that Susan discovered that she has more confidence in maps than talking boxes giving directions.
Edward Gorey's house was old and creaky with a fresh coat of white paint. Mr. Gorey had been a collector of much and a particular pack ratter of books which Susan learned through the photographs on the walls and by talking to the docent. He kept so many books while he lived there that certain rooms were un-navigable. Even with much of the contents removed, Susan found there was plenty to look at and all of it was entertaining.
Cousin Lisa however, was not down with the whole musty house experience & retreated to the outside pretty quickly leaving Susan to poke around undisturbed.
Susan liked Mr. Gorey's tongue in cheekiness. She was especially fond of a hand sewn doll displayed on a windowsill with its head underneath a large rock, and another visible only as a set of legs sticking out from beneath a rug.
Before Susan left she rewarded herself with a few of Mr. Gorey's books, her favorite of which 'The Curious Sofa' made her laugh out loud as she read it, in his house.
3.23.2009
North Carolina
Last month Susan had the pleasure of sitting in a car packed to capacity with her family and their suitcases before emerging twelve hours later in North Carolina. Susan and her family were visiting her elder step-daughter's family, which included two brand new baby boys! In addition, Susan's younger step-daughter would be joining them with her own toddling daughter. Everyone bunking in the same house.
Susan doesn't care for the term step-daughter because she really lucked out with these two. But, for the purpose of this post, it identifies the relationship. Susan and her step-daughters have spent many hundreds of hours together. However, they were divided into increments of 5 over the course of 15 years, not over one long weekend.
Susan's hosts spoiled her;
First, by the father of the twins who jumped up to make his step-mother-in-law coffee whenever she needed a hit. When he wasn't impressing her with his magic caffeine elixir he was pouring her another glass of sangria or a snifter of something delightful and intoxicating.
Then, by the mother of the twins who fetched Susan a blanket to chase away the chilly night air as they all sat outside drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing. She also indulged Susan in hunting down a local thrift shop (because Susan has a monkey on her back) and turned Susan on to a favorite cheap wine, a case of which she managed to stuff into her trunk on the way out of town.
Lastly, by two utterly adorable brothers, so charming and sweet, happy and bright, chubby and blue-eyed. Who could care about anything else when they're in the room?
Susan's younger step-daughter is no slouch herself;
she's got a toddler in tow, a bun in her oven, a full time job and still likes her husband. One of Susan's fave parts of the visit was being given 'Europeans', a kiss on each cheek, by the toddler.
Oh, and this particular step-daughter bought Susan some underpants.
Susan tried to be a good guest by cleaning up after herself, pitching in with household chores and reorganizing a few closets to her own specifications (because Susan's OCD travels with her).
After three days fish and house guests begin to stink so Susan folded herself, her family and their suitcases back into the car and made the grueling twelve hour trek home.
The End.
Susan doesn't care for the term step-daughter because she really lucked out with these two. But, for the purpose of this post, it identifies the relationship. Susan and her step-daughters have spent many hundreds of hours together. However, they were divided into increments of 5 over the course of 15 years, not over one long weekend.
Susan's hosts spoiled her;
First, by the father of the twins who jumped up to make his step-mother-in-law coffee whenever she needed a hit. When he wasn't impressing her with his magic caffeine elixir he was pouring her another glass of sangria or a snifter of something delightful and intoxicating.
Then, by the mother of the twins who fetched Susan a blanket to chase away the chilly night air as they all sat outside drinking, smoking, chatting and laughing. She also indulged Susan in hunting down a local thrift shop (because Susan has a monkey on her back) and turned Susan on to a favorite cheap wine, a case of which she managed to stuff into her trunk on the way out of town.
Lastly, by two utterly adorable brothers, so charming and sweet, happy and bright, chubby and blue-eyed. Who could care about anything else when they're in the room?
Susan's younger step-daughter is no slouch herself;
she's got a toddler in tow, a bun in her oven, a full time job and still likes her husband. One of Susan's fave parts of the visit was being given 'Europeans', a kiss on each cheek, by the toddler.
Oh, and this particular step-daughter bought Susan some underpants.
Susan tried to be a good guest by cleaning up after herself, pitching in with household chores and reorganizing a few closets to her own specifications (because Susan's OCD travels with her).
After three days fish and house guests begin to stink so Susan folded herself, her family and their suitcases back into the car and made the grueling twelve hour trek home.
The End.
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